This Lonely Road
by Dark E Midnight
Summary: Oneshots set season five. Cas is cut off from heaven and is struggling with the emptiness in his head. He's used to the constant chatter of the angel radio and now it's silent. Contains hints of Gen or Pre-slash destiel. Cas pov
1. Snow

**A/N: Recently discovered some pre-slash destiel on Livejournal from Castiels' PoV. Looked for some on and found nothing so thought I would give it a shot. Cas is very hard to write so any pointers would be helpful. Reviews? All criticisms welcome.**

 **Disclaimer: New fic so I guess I need a new disclaimer. If I owned supernatural Cas would be in every episode. He's not so I don't.**

 **Set in season 5 when Cas is on the run from heaven and looking for one is inspired by being freezing outside in the snow.**

Castiel decides he dislikes the snow. He revels in this discovery as he treds on the grey slush that seeps into his shoes. Before his banishment from heaven, his inability to distinguish between temperature meant he had been rather indifferent to snow, or indeed, any weather. The only opinion he had formed on the subject was that newly laid snow could occasionally look pleasing when the sun shone at the right trajectory. Castiel pulls the worn fabric of his trench coat more securely around him in a futile effort to disperse the discomfort the cold was causing him. It was soaked and beginning to freeze. It was also heavy and stiff. It hindered his movement and added to his increasing exhaustion. However, it was the little protection against the wind he had left. He tries not to think back when the adjective cold had been just a word. It makes him feel… longing. His fall from heaven had cost him more than just his brothers. In fact, their constant hounding was the very reason Castiel was forced to walk along streets instead of flying over them faster than a human could comprehend. He feels their relentless scouring. They are close. Very close. He is warded, of course, but that doesn't stop the other angels from searching the Earth manually. Their proximity means the moment he takes to the skies, they would bear down on him and kill him. Capture and torture at the very least. Castiel tries not to linger on that unpleasant thought. Until an opportunity arises for him to 'give them the slip', as the saying goes, he is stuck using his vessel's modes of transport. He can feel his brothers; but he can't hear them. His head feels empty and… lonely without the constant cacophony of the 'angel radio', as Sam and Dean refer to it. Angels are not meant to be solitary. They are soldiers. Always reporting to their superiors and each other. Castiel dislikes the snow but he detests the silence. Additionally, his brothers made it impossible for him to stay in communication with the Winchesers' so very often the silence was around him as well as in his head.

As Dean would say, Russia had been a bust. Castiel had thought that perhaps his Father would reside in a place full of the natural beauty of the Earth He had created. Regrettably, he been wrong. Castiel muses on the idea that his Father loathes the cold as much as he does before dismissing it. Unlike Castiel, God is able to access Heaven's power and would not feel the cold. He needs to rest. His Grace is depleted and resting would restore it somewhat.

His cell phone rings. Castiel reaches into his pocket with numb fingers. Numbness is a new experience and an interesting one. He would not mind it was much were it not for its impracticality. He looks at the screen. _Dean._

"Dean." He says as both greeting and acknowledgement.

"Cas." Dean returns. "Where are you, man? We haven't seen you in weeks."

Castiel looks skywards in exasperation. No matter how many times he explains he is _hunted_ , Heaven's most wanted, Sam and Dean seem unable to comprehend that it's too dangerous for him to stay with them. "Heaven is searching. It's unwise for me to remain stationary. Visiting you would put all of us in danger."

"Screw them. It's not like we're on the best terms anyway." Dean cites.

"Dean, the Angels' may not particularly like you but they see you as of no particular significance other than your use as a vessel. They think of you as a nuisance, at most. It would be best if this remained their opinion."

"What are they gonna do? Kill me? I'm Michael's vessel. They need me." Dean counters.

"Yes." Castiel agrees. "But they don't need Sam." It is with regret that he says that last sentence because he knows it will win the argument. Dean won't risk Sam's life and Castiel won't risk Dean's life but his Grace, his very being, aches for company. For rest. For somewhere dry and warm. For a brief sense of safety.

"We have warding." Dean argues half-heartedly. They both know Castiel has won.

"They'll find a way. It is not possible to stay hidden all the time. You, of all people, should know that." Castiel admonishes.

Dean sighs. "Just… stay safe, buddy. And just because you can't visit doesn't mean you can't call. It'd be awesome if you'd remember you had a friggin' phone."

Castiel take a few moments to try and decipher what Dean means but is unable to find a plausible translation. "I do remember I have a phone."

Sometimes, when Castiel doesn't understand, Dean finds it humorous. This time he sounds impatient. "I mean, would it kill you to call every once in a while. Give us an update on the search for the Big Guy. Or just tell us that the God Squad hasn't caught up with you. Christ, Cas. Half the time we don't even know if you're still breathing."

"I don't breathe." Castiel hasn't fallen that far. Yet.

"It's a figure of speech!" Dean growls. "Just call occasionally, okay?"

"Okay." Castiel decides the conversation has come to a close. Besides, his brothers are nearing. He ends the call and continues his trek through the cold snow. Alone.


	2. Dreams

**A/N: The response to the first chapter has been underwhelming to say the least. I'm not blaming you guys. The views were very low and I don't know if that's because I posted at the wrong time, made a spelling mistake in the title or had a crap summary. Like I said, I aspire to improve so any comments would be great.**

Castiel likes Dean's dreams. It took him time to come to this conclusion because the first few times he was present in Dean's dreams it was because he was commanded to. He considered his pleasure merely satisfaction from fulfilling his orders. Eventually, Castiel came to the conclusion he enjoyed seeing Dean's thoughts unguarded and unfiltered. Dean was stripped to the very essence of who he was. And Castiel thought Dean was, in Dean's own words, 'awesome'. After the aversion of the apocalypse his head is filled with the silence. When Castiel feels as though the silence is drowning him (Or, how at least, Castiel thinks drowning feels, as an Angel he has experienced no such thing) he expels it by leaving his own head and entering Dean's.

Dean's dreams are consistent in their content and rarely, if ever original.

Dean dreams about sex. Many a time Dean's brain conjures situations involving him and a girl engaging in various sexual activities. The appearance of the girl varies but they always have a few things in common. Young, long hair and large breasts. Occasionally there is more than one girl. These dreams had a sensation of happiness and contentment. Castiel never stayed long in these dreams. They made him vaguely uncomfortable. Additionally, there's was nothing to discover about Dean other than his preferred sex positions.

Dean dreams about Hell. These dreams were... confusing. The most prominent thing about them was the smell. In Dean's experiences, Hell smelled like sweat and blood. The overwhelming stench of copper filled Dean's throat until he was choking on it. The temperature is at a constantly high level that creates the illusion of the world spinning The nightmares about Hell generally fit into two categories. Torturing and being tortured. Physically, being tortured was worse. In his dreams, Dean screamed until his throat was raw. Until he forgot who and where he was. Which, Castiel supposed, was a type of torture unto its self. In the physical world, Dean moved around incessantly and wept with silent tears. However, those were not the dreams which haunted Dean's waking hours. Mentally, Dean found torturing other souls the more excruciating of the two. In the dreams, there were two Deans. The torturer: angry and transferring it on to others, lacking empathy instead cackling in pleasure as skin split and bones cracked, diabolical as he discovered new ways to make his victims scream. The observer: regretful, begging for the torturer to stop, helpless to prevent the horrifying scenes laid out before him. When Dean awoke from these dreams guilt surrounded him like a second skin and he loathed himself so profoundly it almost hurt Castiel to look at it because Dean hating himself pained Castiel too. If Castiel had enough power, he took all the Hell dreams and transformed them into more pleasant scenes. He didn't like it when Dean was hurting. More and more often though, Castiel was powerless to save Dean from the tragedies that were unfolding. In those cases, he stayed regardless and suffered through those nightmares along with Dean. Castiel didn't quite understand why he did this as it was ineffectual for both of them to suffer and it was unlikely Dean would remember his presence but abandoning Dean felt... heartless. Besides, he himself knows what it is to be alone. And he doesn't not wish Dean to experience that.

Sometimes Dean dreams about a case. When the hunt goes accordingly, the dream was warm and filled with a sense of... self-worth and satisfaction. In those times, Dean felt a little like he could help people. That his existence did ultimately make the world better. That he deserved to live. Those dreams made Castiel feel... happy. Because he thought Dean was worth an abundance. Regrettably, sometimes the hunts didn't go well. In those dreams, it was Sam who died. Castiel thought it was probably because to Dean, Sam dying was infinitely worse than his own demise. Many of the dreams appeared to be based upon a situation that had taken place prior to his introduction to the Winchesters as they often ended with Sam dying in Dean's arms. An event that Castiel had fleeting glimpsed in Dean's memories before. Castiel ended those dreams as well.

There were the dreams that had inconsequential or no meaning. Dreams about consuming pie or ending the lives of fish. Castiel did not quite understand the objective of... fishing. Dean despised the taste of the prey in question. Dreams about a movie viewed previously except Dean was the protagonist. Dreams about travelling great distances in his automobile. Occasionally, Castiel himself made appearances. Castiel liked those dreams.

Castiel's favourites of Dean's dreams were the ones about Dean's childhood. He found the innocence and optimism of these dreams... refreshing. To say theleast. He also enjoyed the insights into Dean's personality before the complications of heaven and hell had taken their toll. When it was just Dean and his father and brother looking for a monster. Regrettably, these dreams were rare leading Castiel to guard carefully the ones he had experienced.

Castiel never told Dean that he spent as many nights as possible sharing Dean's head. In the beginning, it was because he hadn't even thought to tell Dean. Had thought his permission and opinion were inconsequential. Later it was because Castiel _knew_ it was an invasion on Dean's privacy. Of his 'personal space'. Castiel didn't want Dean to know he was betraying Dean's trust. And it was a betrayal of trust. Even if Dean had never specially requested his dreams to remain untouched, Castiel was very aware of Dean's dislike of visitors to his thoughts. But he also didn't want to be forced to remain in the macroscopic silence as he knew he would be if Dean forbid his visits. His imperfect solution was to always made sure he was concealed and Dean was still asleep before leaving to go back to his own empty head, filled with only his own thoughts.


	3. Alcohol

**A/N: I took liberties with what an angel would feel like drunk.**

 _ **Tag to 99 Problems**_

Castiel decides that his analogy to drowning in the silence is accurate in more ways than one. The silence is like an ocean. Huge, powerful, unstoppable, impossible to ignore. Sometimes Castiel just wants to forget that he's all alone with his brothers hunting him. Alas, the silence is unforgettable.

This week alone Castiel was forced to kill three of his brothers. The fact it was in self-defence was of little comfort. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky they had underestimated him. Castiel kept seeing his Angel Blade slide into their chests. This should not be affecting him so immensely. He has killed siblings before. But it's different now. Previously, when an Angel died their Garrison shared memories of their lives then Heaven mourned together. It was almost like they were not lost at all as all their experiences were passed on to all Angels. It was as each of them absorbed a little of their Grace. The Angels he had killed since his fall had just been lost to him.

The Winchesters didn't understand. Every Angel _is_ his sibling. Granted, they did not mean as much to each other as the Winchesters' did but that did not mean they were indifferent.

Castiel has observed Dean forget unpleasant things with alcoholic beverages. It is unlikely, to say the least, that liquor would have the desired effect on an angel. Even a fallen one. Nevertheless, Castiel is alone. And what else is he going to do? The search for God was... unsuccessful. It is difficult for Castiel to find a purpose for his continued existence. But he would not abandon the Winchesters in their war against... well, everything. He wants to forget his failure, the silence, his fall. Ingesting copious amounts of alcohol appears to be as good a method as any other.

Castiel is unsure of the types of alcohol and their varying strengths. He is also reluctant to enter a den of iniquity. He maybe no longer an Angel of the Lord but he still remains of the Lord. Consequently, Castiel is... pleased when he happens upon an empty liquor store. He wishes to fly inside but it's unwise to squander energy when it is likely he can open the door using only his vessel.

Inside, there is substantial number of shelves filled with glasses bottle containing a variety of liquids differing in colour, size and shape. Castiel doesn't know the difference. He goes to the nearest shelf and picks a bottle. Castiel doesn't hold much fondness for the bitter taste. His throat acquires a burning sensation which worsens with each bottle.

Castiel's head is pulsing. Everything seemed surreal and slightly out of focus. The alcohol didn't help him forget. It just numbed him for an infinitesimal amount of time. The silence appeared to have multiplied during the bender. Castiel hears his cell phone ring. The extra noise makes his... headache worsen. Castiel puts his head in his hands for he doesn't know how long.

Eventually, Castiel find the strength to check his voice mail. He doesn't quite understand voice mail but last time he was with the Winchesters Sam taught him how to listen to the prerecorded messages. Sam had called him. And left a message. A long one. Castiel didn't assimilate all the information he got the location. The Winchesters needed his help.

Castiel sat on the steps. He hadn't taken pleasure in being drunk. He enjoyed being 'hungover' even less. The light was too bright. The world too loud. His mouth retained a dryness that no quantity of liquid would dispel. He could sense Dean walking to his 'baby'. Dean picked something up. It rattled. The sound was grating.

Then Dean spoke. Castiel winced at the extra sound. "Heads up."

Castiel doesn't understand the saying but he gathers it is a warning as a bottle of pills is propelled towards him. He recognises them as a medicine taken to diminish headaches. "How many should I take?" Castiel asks.

"You?" Dean raises his eyebrows. "You should probably just down the whole bottle." Castiel assumes he is referencing to the fact Castiel drank a liquor store before he was inebriated.

The pills are unlikely to have a significant effect but Castiel appreciates the gesture. "Thanks."

Dean's voice softens and makes the transition from joking for what Castiel perceives as an attempt to be comforting. "Yeah, don't mention it. Yeah, I've been there. I'm a big expect on deadbeat dads. So... Yeah, I get it. I know how you feel."

Castiel wants to laugh. Dean assumes this is about God. He's not going to deny that God's indifference was disappointing but the silence bothered him more. There was no way to try and explain it. A human could never hope to understand. "How do you manage it?" He asks generally curious. Dean may not understand but he had had his own share of problems. Perhaps Maybe Dean could help. Pass on some wise son from his shirt but admittedly hard, life.

The corners of Dean's mouth lift up and somehow Castiel just knows that even when everything else goes wrong, Dean 'has his back' as the saying goes. "On a good day, you get to kill a whore."

Castiel smiles at that despite himself. Surprisingly, for the first time in days, he doesn't feel so alone.

 **A/N: An actual kind of happy ending. I need a medal of something. Reviews? Pretty please?**


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